"The best fruit is always forbidden."
Thalassa arrived at the designated quarter for the northern general, Grimgold. At the time she arrived, three men and five women, chained strictly, their hands behind their back, knelt before him. The ropes were knotted so tightly, it ate into their flesh, drawing blood which spilled onto the white fur rug.
Their dealer, an old man, bearing a claw scar on his neck, rubbed his palms together, his lips widened into a grin.
"I assure you, these slaves are all freshly picked, the men can hunt and harrow for hours on end. And as for the women, they are untouched, and perfect for breeding." he assured the general, but there was not a hint of interest in his eyes.
He lazily averted his gaze to Thalassa who stood by the door, waiting to be allowed inside. "And you? Do you reckon I purchase these slaves?" he asked, throwing the ball in her court.
